


Two-Fifths

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blast Off needs something Vortex didn’t expect.</p>
<p>Blast Off, Vortex, implied Blast Off/Vortex / Combati-fluff, h/c</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two-Fifths

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** G1 (part of Ultharkitty’s [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1))  
>  **Warnings:** Combati-fluff, h/c  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off, Vortex, implied Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Summary:** Blast Off needs something Vortex didn’t expect.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** Ultharkitty, thank you! :D
> 
> **Note:** There’re mentions of [“One Fine Day”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/313174), but it’s understandable without knowing it.

Vortex stepped into the room as quietly as possible. The door creaked as he closed it.

Blast Off didn’t seem angry. 

Without asking, Vortex re-locked the door. It was a manual lock with a thick bolt. It was so different from the technology on Cybertron, or even on the Nemesis and their HQ on Earth. It was the remnant of a long lost civilisation. Most of the buildings were ruins, and the few that still could be inhabited by the Decepticons were dirty and dusty.

And in contrast to that, there was Blast Off’s room. The shuttle must have spent joors cleaning it. The walls still looked shabby, but Vortex didn’t kick up dust as he moved. Not like he did in his own room.

“You wanted to see me?” the ‘copter said, honestly curious as Blast Off didn’t seem to want to interface. He idly sat on the berth. There was no buzz in the shuttle's energy field. His field was rather drawn close, hard to read like this.

“I did. Come here.” Blast Off waved towards him and put the datapad down. It was offline. He probably had tried to read and failed, or had just turned it off when Vortex arrived.

Vortex stepped closer, carefully. One could never know what the shuttle wanted, especially not when his body language was so hard to decipher.

He stopped next to the berth, keeping his rotors still. “Why am I here?”

Blast Off shook his head, then waved again, telling the ‘copter to come closer.

The red visor hid Vortex’ frown, but he didn’t complain as he was allowed to climb on the berth. Sitting next to Blast Off, he realised once more how comfortable and soft the berth was. This, too, was different from most others’. Vortex wondered how the shuttle had built it with such limited supplies on Chaar. But then, Blast Off might have found a storage room and kept it for himself. After all, he _was_ and egoist, and snobby. There was no way he’d be satisfied with the hard berths anyone else had to put up with.

Blast Off stared at him, and nodded, indicating he wanted Vortex even closer.

That was odd. Not that Vortex didn’t want to, but the whole situation seemed surreal. Blast Off didn’t appear playful, didn’t tease him with his energy field. There was no need in the energy signature, not the slightest hint of arousal.

Nonetheless, Vortex straddled Blast Off’s lap. If the shuttle thought that was too much, Vortex would know soon enough, and he’d be pushed off, or maybe worse.

Nothing of that sort happened. Instead, Blast Off tugged him closer. An arm wrapped around the small of Vortex’ back, and Blast Off rested his forehead on the ‘copter’s shoulder. Even this close, the other’s signature was hard to read, and Vortex had no idea where to put his hands.

“Blast Off?”

“Hm?”

Glancing next to him, Vortex didn’t see any purple shimmer. Blast Off’s optics were offline. “Are you drunk?”

The shuttle shook his head minutely.

Okay, so it wasn’t that.

“Are you tired?”

A shrug, and an almost unintelligible mumbling. “A little.”

With an almost muted sigh, Vortex relaxed. Carefully, he put an arm around Blast Off’s neck, and leant the side of his helm against Blast Off’s. The other hand lay idle near the shuttle’s hip, touching the plating softly.

There was no urge to interface. Clearly not from Blast Off’s side, and Vortex was comfortable with only this for a moment as well.

Like Vortex had thought before, that was weird.

Blast Off never usually sought this kind of proximity. Not without having an excuse. It sometimes happened after an interface, that Blast Off just lay there and pulled Vortex closer. It sometimes happened when Blast Off was in recharge, and sometimes when Blast Off pretended to be.

Vortex had never addressed that, never called him on it, because if Blast Off knew Vortex knew, the shuttle wouldn’t do it any more. And just lying together with someone was nice, especially if that meant you could touch them, and reach out for their energy field.

This time, Blast Off wasn’t tired, or drunk, or recently returned from a space trip in utter exhaustion.

Blast Off didn’t have an excuse.

“What’s wrong?” Vortex was sure there was a reason. He stroked the thick neck cables, and traced further down, then up again. The contrast of smooth metal and abrasive ceramic tiles was nice on his fingertips.

Vortex earnt himself another shrug. “It’s aching.”

“What’s aching?”

Blast Off grumbled something hardly comprehensible.

“Excuse me?”

“The gestalt program,” the shuttle uttered, as though annoyed at having to repeat himself.

Vortex suppressed a giggle. “Well, considered how you treated Brawl yesterday, it might try to teach you a lesson?”

“Shut up,” Blast Off huffed. The vented air tickled Vortex’ intakes and chest plating, and he had to hinder himself from shuddering. “I can still kick you out and ask Onslaught,” the shuttle continued, and Vortex bit his glossa. If Blast Off actually needed proximity, and asked him, he shouldn’t waste this opportunity.

“It’s not since yesterday. It’s been doing that for a while. I don’t like it.” The vibrations of Blast Off’s vocaliser were noticeable in the neck cables and upper back, and Vortex took it all in.

For a moment, there was only the hum of two everyday systems, before Blast Off spoke anew.

Vortex let him talk.

“I think it’s space.” The shuttle readjusted the arm around him, and vented deeply. “Sometimes it feels like it doesn’t like me being in space for long.”

A frown built on Vortex face plates. It wasn’t like Blast Off to admit something like this, even less if it was about space, the very reason he had been built, _his purpose_ , as he called it.

It must have been getting to him if he let his guard drop around Vortex like this.

“Am I helping?” Vortex asked so as not to call it closeness.

“Not much.”

Vortex sighed. “Maybe we should connect?”

“I don’t feel like interfacing.” The shuttle engine rumbled. For once Vortex didn’t ask because he wanted to frag, but of course Blast Off would think so. 

“I didn’t mention it for _that_ , you know. I’m not that bad. I just thought you definitely wouldn’t like my other suggestion.”

“Which is?” Blast Off’s voice was strained. “I just want it to stop.”

It was very thin ground Vortex would step on if he spoke the thought that had crossed his mind. Blast Off would hate it. And if not that, then highly dislike it as the shuttle wasn’t capable of hate.

“You could open your side of the bond?” Vortex was surprised of how insecure he sounded. He hadn’t meant to. Though, not counting the times they combined, as it was something completely different, Blast Off had only ever opened his bond once. It was when they both had thought they were going to die in a few breems; the shuttle had had nothing to lose.

“You’re right,” Blast Off interrupted Vortex’ train of thought, “I don’t like the suggestion.”

That was only to be expected. Still, Vortex was disappointed.

Moving his hand slowly, he stroked over the gaps in the heat shield of Blast Off’s root mode, careful not to press too hard and make the shuttle flinch.

Thoughts began drifting as to why it couldn’t be more often like this. Why they all had to be so complicated and make working together so difficult sometimes. Vortex blamed the gestalt program for his thoughts, too, because he didn’t want any of them any different – except Swindle maybe.

His musings were disturbed once again.

The change came unexpected, all of a sudden, and Vortex tensed when one of the locked gates opened slowly, hesitatingly.

Blast Off’s presence grew, the vital readings became clearer, the status of scanners an underlying knowledge as was the reluctance of opening up.

Rotors began quivering, and Vortex pressed closer, wrapping his arms around the shuttle’s bulk tighter as though not wanting him to leave. He’d never thought he’d get this ever again, and certainly not like this. His circuits ached for the other three sides to open as well, but one was more than Vortex could have hoped for.

He was a little more complete.

He knew that Blast Off didn’t like it. But the shuttle couldn’t deny that it helped with the ache, and that he might be able to recharge again. Because the shuttle had been lying when he said he was only a little tired.

“You’re an idiot,” Vortex muttered, offlining his optics.

“Shut up.”

Vortex grinned, and agreed to Blast Off’s unspoken query of keeping quiet about this.

He wouldn’t tell the others. This moment belonged to Vortex alone.


End file.
